


Dark Redemption

by BAdeMorte



Category: Constantine (Comic), Constantine (TV), Hellblazer, Lucifer (Comic)
Genre: A lot of fallen angels, Don't even get me started on the stubbornness, F/M, Someone likes to cook...a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 08:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6322264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BAdeMorte/pseuds/BAdeMorte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madelaine has always dealt with the world of magic. After her mentor dies mysteriously, which causes her to become cursed, she calls in a mark that was owed to her uncles for help. With some fallen angels and a Hindu mystic added to the mix, most would think that the world had gone insane. Just business as usual for John Constantine.</p>
<p>  I own nothing but some comics, a trench coat, and a laptop. The rest belongs to someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This is based off of a Role Play on Twitter. There is come comic canon, and TV canon mixed in as I see fit. Just giving a heads up on that.

He really didn’t like New Orleans. It was a place of wild magic. Ironic, giving who he was.  However he hated surprises because they were usually the nasty kind. Never the fun kind. Life had a shitty sense of humour.

Looking at his mobile one last time, he shot off another text to Chas. His mate wanted to come with him on this, but this was personal. John hated owing. That’s why he rarely made promises. Most usually ended up with someone dead, or being blamed for someone being dead.

So when Garland and Leslie got a promise out of him, he waited for them to call in their mark. They never did. They both passed away months from each other. He did the courteous thing and checked to make sure that magic hadn’t helped them off the mortal coil, thinking that he heard the last of it. Should have known better. Promises have an odd way of sticking around longer than they should.

He knew Madelaine Destry for years now. Well, that was generous. He usually saw her hiding around a corner or in a hay loft, when he came to visit the boys for something or other. She never talked to him. Reminded him of a scrawny rabbit jumping at shadows. Good kid. Just shy, which is why he was shocked when he heard from her. Didn’t see that one coming.

Seems the bird got herself in a bit of a bind. The mentor that the boys found had died in an ugly way. Didn’t really know the details, but from what was being said, the less known the better. With the mentor’s death came a nasty surprise. She wasn’t really upfront about it, which is why he was on Bourbon Street wondering where his pack of Silk Cuts went. It was a damn good thing that Midnite was in New York. That was one headache he didn’t need.

With his battered brown case at his feet, he was patting his coat and pockets hoping that he somehow missed his pack. Wasn’t holding out a lot of hope though. He wasn’t /that/ lucky. Maybe he could nip into a shop to get a replacement. 

As he was thinking that, his eye caught a small white object that was being held out to him. It was being held in a rather slim, delicate hand. His dark brown eyes traveled up, until he met some bright, but nervous looking blue eyes that were looking everywhere but him. Taking a moment to focus on the whole picture, he couldn’t help but be amused. Puberty had been amazing to Madelaine. Gone was the scrawny kid and in her place was a leggy blonde. He should have visited sooner.

It took him a minute to realize that she was offering him a pack of Silk Cuts. From what he knew about her, and he knew a lot thanks to her uncles, she didn’t smoke or drink. So, he came to the quick conclusion that her uncles had loose lipped about him as well. Good to know.

Plucking the box with a grin and a wink, “Thanks, luv. Guess mine grew legs and walked off. So, what do you need me ta do? Gremlins being little gobshites?”

Unwrapping the pack, he was focused on getting a fag out and getting his lighter. Wasn’t really paying attention to the girl. When a man needed a smoke, nothing else mattered. As he lit the cigarette, he enjoyed the rush of nicotine for a moment before looking back at her. She just stood there quietly.  If he didn’t know any better, he would have mistaken her for a statute or one of those street performers that stood still in dress up. He was tempted to take his finger and poke at her to see if that would do anything.

He watched as she started to blush. Didn’t do anything to cause that. Deciding to look around, he tried to figure out why she was embarrassed. Maybe it was an ex bugging her. Wouldn’t be surprised with a face like hers.

It was in that moment that he missed her picking up his case and grabbing his arm. He soon found himself being kind of dragged. He was strangely fine with this. There were worse things to have happen then being dragged by a blue eyed woman.

It wasn’t until he saw where she was taking him that he rethought that. He had been to some seedy places, but the Salem House pub made them look right down posh. Where did a nice girl like Madelaine learn about this place? He felt defiled just looking at the bloody place.

The inside wasn’t much better. It pretty much looked like every dive one saw in those slasher flicks. The ones where the unsuspecting kids stumble upon and then lead a killer home from. He was also sure that it wasn’t on the up and up, when it came to magic. Why Midnite let this place stay was a mystery. Probably had some shady deal or something. Not his problem…yet.

As they settled on some questionable looking bar stools, she flashed a credit card and smiled, “Are you hungry? Whatever you want. My treat.”

Quickly grabbing her hand so that the credit card wasn’t being waved around like a beacon, “No thanks. I don’t think this place sells anything that won’t require a Tetanus shot later. Put that away. Don’t need to be advertising that you have money.”

She shrugs and puts the card away, “It’s just a place that magic minded people gather. The guy in the corner is a sniffer demon. They’re always after me because….”

 

She looked around nervously before continuing in a whisper, “My virgin blood.”

 

Blinking once, twice, and then three times, he still couldn’t get that little tidbit to wrap around his brain. Not the fact that she was a virgin. He’d met her uncles. No one was going to mess with a girl that had two overprotective former marines that knew how to kill without leaving marks as guardians. It didn’t  matter how gorgeous she was. A bloke was always going to choose life over a potential shag. Unless  alcohol was involved. Then it would go to more of a 50/50 shot. 

Finally he found his tongue again, “You frequent a pub full of miscreants with an intact cherry? Are you trying to get yourself sacrificed to the nearest Aztec god with enough dough stashed away?” 

 

He saw her bristle at that, “No! I know how to handle myself, Mr. Constantine. I just forgot the amulet that masks that. It’s caused me trouble with the metal detectors. I have killed demons. Not as many as you, but a few.” 

 

He just stared at her for a moment. Not really believing that she said that as bold as brass at a demon dive. It seems that mentor of hers had shite for brains, when he was alive. That was the only thing that John could come up with. 

 

Taking a drag of his cigarette before he said with a tart tone, “Ya a natural blond or something?” 

 

She gave him a bright smile and announced proudly, “Why, yes I am a natural blonde.”

 

For the third time in less than an hour, he was stunned. He didn’t know if this girl was from the dull end of a crayola box or so devious that he couldn’t figure her out. 

 

Snorting a little, “Okay then, Blondie. What do you need me to do? Haven’t told me that bit yet.” 

 

Her shoulders hunched a little at that question. That couldn’t be a good sign. If anything it was a sign that he would be wise to get the next plane out of town. It was a good thing for her that he could never be accused of being wise. Guess she was stuck with him. Poor woman.

She looked around a bit before she answer, “Rather not talk about it here. It’s a bit sensitive. I have a house here. So, we don’t have to worry about going all the way back to the Farm.”

At that moment is was both worried and happy at what she said. Worried because she didn’t want to talk about her problem here. What kind of problem could be more sensitive than announcing rather loudly that she was a virgin in the company of demons? A really fucking big problem. That’s what.

The happiness came from the fact that they weren’t going to the Farm. He would be the first to admit that he was a city boy. Leslie and Garland used to find it hilarious when he’d tense up because a horse would start nudging his arm,  or when he walked into something that he rather not focus on. The Farm wasn’t exactly his favourite place. So, he was thrilled that she had a place in the city. This he could handle. This he knew.

Standing up, he grabbed his battered case and took another drag from his cigarette. As the smoke curled around his head, he said, “Right-o! Let’s get on with it then. Lead the way, Blondie.”


End file.
